Dangerous by Sylvia McDaniel

Author:Sylvia McDaniel [McDaniel, Sylvia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: contemporary romance
Goodreads: 23638044
Publisher: CreateSpace
Published: 2014-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

With every step her horse took, Annabelle felt like a knife stabbed her tailbone. Her muscles ached from the hours in the saddle. She’d had very little rest in the last twenty-four hours. If it weren't for the fact she was getting pierced in the butt every time her horse moved, she’d go to sleep. Beau wanted to make it before dark, but she feared the sun would set before they arrived. Their bodies were tired, and the horses were showing signs of fatigue.

“Did you hear that?” Beau asked.

“Hear what?” she said, forcing herself to become more alert. She needed to help watch for signs of the Harris gang, yet she could barely keep her eyes open. “No, I didn’t hear anything but the birds chirping.”

He pulled his horse to a stop.

Then she heard it—the sounds of crying. “That’s a baby.”

A frown marred his forehead. “Maybe it’s from a farm?”

“Why would a baby be outside?” she asked.

They came out of the bushes within twenty yards of a couple with two small children and a baby. The wheel of their wagon had come off, and the man was struggling to put it back on.

The couple gazed at them warily. Annabelle could see the fear in the woman’s face.

“Hello? Looks like you’ve had some trouble.” She tried to put the woman at ease.

Beau was already sliding off his saddle. He ground tethered his horse and went to help. The man was showing Beau where the pin had snapped on the wheel and how he was trying to fix it.

The outlaw was trying to help a stranger fix his family’s wagon.

Every time she thought she hated Beauregard Samuel, he did something nice, either for her or someone else to make her reconsider.

Annabelle swung her leg over and slid off her horse then walked over to the woman. “Hi, I’m Annabelle, and that’s my husband, Beau. We’re from Zenith.”

“Nice to meet you,” the woman said. “I’m Irene and that’s Jack, my husband.”

“How old are your children?”

“They’re four and two years old and the baby is six months,” she said. The baby began to cry again. “Sorry, he’s teething, and he’s been very fussy.”

“Are you from around here?” Annabelle asked.

“Yes, we live about five miles down the road. We were almost home,” the woman said, glancing over at the toddlers.

They seemed like a nice family, and Annabelle felt a moment of jealousy. This was what she wanted, a family of her own with children and a loving husband—someone to talk to, besides the chickens, when her sisters were gone.

There would come a day her sisters found husbands of their own and moved away from Annabelle and the farm. She could be living alone.

There was a moment of silence, and then the woman turned to Annabelle. “How about you and your husband?”

“No babies,” Annabelle responded, wanting to correct the lie she’d told this woman and tell her they weren’t married. But if the Harris gang stopped them, the couple might tell the outlaws Beau and Annabelle weren’t married.

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